Face Your Future
by Lady-Night-Lark
Summary: What would Ceil Phantomhive's life be like if he hadn't contracted a demon? Only one person knows, and that is Ceil Phantomhive himself.


Ceil was walking down the hall of his large mansion on the way to his study. Sebastian promised there would be tea and sweets waiting for the master once he arrived. As he walked Ceil was wondering what sort of sweets his faithful butler had made for him this time.

He stopped, looking around puzzled. This hallway wasn't familiar. And he had walked all over the mansion in the two years he had lived here. And every hallway had windows to let the light of day in, and lit by candle during the night. When Ceil had left the dining room after finishing his breakfast the sun was shining in the late morning.

But in this unfamiliar hall it could've been the dead of night.

Ceil could smell the dust and cobwebs that layered the floor and walls. And he could faintly hear small creatures scurrying on the tiles. This couldn't be his mansion.

Somewhere deep in the darkness a light shined nearly blinding the young master, even though it was very faint. He walked toward the light, barely making out the pictures that hung on the walls. Even those weren't familiar. People and places he had never seen before, and some looked as though they didn't even exist.

Something tripped the young master and he fell to the floor, clouds of dust rising on impact. Ceil groaned in pain and also in annoyance, rolling onto his back. What kind of joke was this supposed to be? _I thought demons didn't have a sense of humor. . ._

Ceil's breathing stopped. He was below the square of light that was hanging on the wall. A. . . picture frame?

The young earl scrambled to get up, brushing dust off as he went. He stared at it for a moment trying to discern the picture that hung on the wall. What was it? Was it some trick?

Agitation boiled up in the young boy. "Sebastian!" he called into the dark ends of the hall. "Sebastian! What sort of joke is this? Do you hear me, Sebastian?"

His butler did not appear form the darkness.

"Damn demon," he mumbled under his breath. If he used the contract to call Sebastian to him the demon would have no choice but to come. Then this ridiculous joke would end. Ceil raised his hand to remove the eye patch, but only to draw it away appalled.

He was shaking. Shaking with fear, he realized.

Ceil clenched the hand into a tight fist to stop the shaking. But when that didn't work he held it against his chest as if he was injured. His jewel blue eye jumped around the hall while he tried to gain control of his breathing again. The last thing he needed was another asthma attack.

But why would he, the Earl of Phantomhive, The Queen's Watchdog, the Aristocrat of Evil, the boy who was dragged through darkness into the very depths of Hell, be afraid?

_"Ceil,"_

The young boy's eye snapped back to the picture hanging on the wall where the breathy whisper came from.

_"Ceil, please. Come closer,"_ It said.

The boy gulped, taking a single step closer the picture. "Wh-who are you?" he asked trying to sound fearless, yet faltering just slightly. Never once in his young life had a picture talked to him, nor him talking back.

_"You need to look closer."_ The deep, manly voice answered. Then chuckled when Ceil just stood there. _"I'm nothing you need to be afraid of. It's silly to fear yourself, don't you think?"_

"Myself?" Ceil asked dazed. Then his eye narrowed in annoyance. "Stop speaking in riddles and answer my question," He demanded, sounding less like a frightened boy and more like the head of the manor. "Who are you?" He stalked closer to get a better look, just as the picture had asked.

_"Well Ceil, I . . ."_ The light dimmed the closer Ceil got. Only when he was standing in front of the picture did he clearly see what the portrait was of, and gasped. _"am you."_

He took a faltering step back and raised an arm in defense, staring wide eyed at. . . himself. He was older looking. His shoulders were broad and wide. And the boyish features were gone, face thinned out with age; a man. He looked very much like his father Vincent. But what caught Ceil's attention the most was his eyes. _Eyes_. Both were present on the face, neither of them concealed by an eye patch.

Neither held the contract of a devil.

The man in the image smiled at Ceil. _"Yes Ceil, I am you. But you don't need to be afraid because I don't exist." _

"What?" Ceil lowered his arm.

_"My name is Ceil Phantomhive, head of the Phantomhive estate. I am you."_ The smile disappeared and his eyes grew sad. _"But you will never be me."_

"I told you not to speak in riddles!" the younger Ceil lashed out. "Now say what you mean!"

_"We never did like puzzles . . ."_ The corners of the man's mouth twitched in a barely there smile. _"I think it would be better to show you what I mean."_ he stepped back and to the side disappearing from sight.

Ceil charged forward ready to order the man to come back, but only to stumble back again at the images he was seeing. He was seeing the mansion burning, the crimson flames licking at the sky. Higher and higher as if to burn the stars along with his home. He saw himself running through halls in search of his mother and father in the flames. He saw Tanaka, ordering him to leave immediately and getting shot. He saw strange people tying him up and throwing him into a cage. He saw men and women in white cursing him and branding him with the mark of the beast. He could feel his skin seer when the hot iron made contact with his ribs. And no matter how much he screamed, no matter how much he begged they wouldn't stop and kept torturing and laughing at him. Like watching a pig struggle while being slaughtered.

Ceil gripped his head in pain. He remembered very well what had happened to him during that month, but it was different watching it over again as if it had happened only mere seconds ago. "Please," he pleaded. "Stop. Make it . . . Stop." His head pounded. He felt sick.

Then there was a gentle touch to his head. It felt so familiar to Ceil, felt so much like his father's, he didn't resist. Instead he closed his eyes and allowed the cooling hand to ease away his headache.

_"I know it's painful, Ceil. I went through it as well. But you must watch the rest."_

When Ceil had opened his eyes again he saw his ten year old self in a dark cage, huddled into the corner. He remembered he wanted to be as far away as possible from anyone who opened the cage door. So . . . So he would have a few seconds to pray before his thoughts were filled with pain again.

But something didn't seem right about the image he was seeing. What he saw was the night he summoned the demon he now called "Sebastian". But there the young Ceil sat. Saying nothing, doing nothing. Only staring at the metal floor. Why wasn't he taking hold of the spider's thread?

_"The spider's thread . . . An interesting way of thinking, I must say."_

"It is how I think of that day. Of what Sebastian was for me." Ceil explained.

_"I understand perfectly. I remember how desperate I felt to escape that place. And I'm very certain you do too."_

Ceil swallowed. "I do."

He still waited for the summoning. He waited for that demon to kill the people who had tortured him. He waited to watch it all over again. But it didn't happen. Nothing was happening. Did that mean it stopped?

Suddenly, the door to the building flung open, and the white light of a December day came flooding in. But not only light, there were also people. The present day Ceil looked closely at the men and recognized their coats. It was Scotland Yard.

"What is this? This never happened to me. Tell me now! Whose memory is this really?" The boy demanded.

_"This is my memory."_

The boy was stunned, his anger gone. "But . . . You said we are the same person. So how . . ." as Ceil spoke he watched a member of the Yard yell at another to fetch him tools once he noticed the young one in the cage. After he broke the lock he opened the door, causing the hinges to squeak and groan. Ceil in the memory flinched back, afraid of what this man would do to him. When Ceil didn't reach for the man's outstretched hand, he heard the cop gently say _"Please don't be afraid. I won't hurt you. No one is going to. Never again. You're safe now."_ The man had such a pitying look on his face, it seemed pathetic. But his smile was warm, and something in his kind eyes held truth. "How is it that this memory is only yours?"

The image of the man from Scotland Yard carrying a crying and broken Ceil into one of the Yard's carriages went away, and the face of older Ceil took its place. He had that sad look again. But it wasn't for himself, Ceil realized; it was for the Ceil of today. The Ceil that stood in front of a picture frame.

_"Fate had a different path in mind for you Ceil."_ he began. _"You were meant to be saved the day after you had summoned that butler of yours. You were meant to have a different life, and you know it. But you made the decision to alter that path. That is why I don't exist and why this memory does not as well. You thought you knew of the consequences when you made the decision. But do you really?"_ His voice cracked like he was about to cry at that moment. _"Do you know what you have done to yourself?"_

"Of course I know!" Ceil yelled. "I knew I was giving away my soul to take revenge on those who sullied the Phantomhive name!" The boy looked down at his left hand. He brought it close to his chest to twiddle with the ring that held the deep blue gem, twisting it this way and that. His voice was softer than before, but still held passion, as he said "But it doesn't matter if I had contracted with a demon or not. This ring has brought on the demise of every head of the family for generations. And they would have come for me anyway just to kill me. You see, an early death has always been my fate." He looked back to his older self and held his hand out for him to see. "But I have accepted this fate! Yet I will not wait in anticipation for this death of mine; I will face it head on like any other Phantomhive would."

_"If you were truly meant to have a short life, then tell me why I am here."_

When Ceil just stood in stunned silence, the man continued. _"I'm not an illusion, Ceil. I am not a lie. I am you, and I wanted to show you what your life was going to truly be."_ Once again that day he stepped back and away, and the film began to roll.

Ceil watched a course of years in a matter of a few minutes. He was hospitalized when he was rescued and made a quick recovery. Lizzy and Madame were holding him close to themselves, fearing to let him go. Ceil standing over his parents' graves with a bouquet of white lilies and his fiancée and aunts at his side. Ceil taking over Funtom and running the business rather well. Joyous and gay birthdays passing with the winter snow. A beautiful spring wedding and a gorgeous and older Elizabeth in white, with an older and handsome Ceil waiting for her to walk down the aisle. He was smiling in excitement. Actually smiling! Then it switched to Elizabeth lying in bed as she gave birth, with Aunt Angelina helping alongside the doctor. Ceil never let go of his wife's hand, and encouraged her to push. Then there was the small scream of a new life. Madame Red wrapped the newborn in a warm piece of cloth and gave it to Lizzy. _"It's a girl."_ she announced. Despite how worn Elizabeth was she took hold of the child in her arms, holding it so gently. She laughed quietly. _"She's absolutely beautiful,"_ Looking up to her husband she asked _"What shall we name her, Ceil?"_

The world stopped for Ceil, and suddenly nothing seemed more important to him than his daughter, his child. _I'm a father_. . . He reached down with his little finger, and the baby grabbed onto it with what strength it had. _"Rachel,"_ he said. _"Rachel Anne Phantomhive,"_

The new mother smiled. _"I like the sound of it."_ She kissed the newborn's forehead. _"Welcome to the world, Rachel."_

The roll skipped to Ceil holding the sleeping newborn in his arms by the window as Lizzy slept in the bed. He never once took his eyes off his new daughter as he sang softly and never once did his smile falter either.

More years passed inside of the picture frame. Rachel grew to the age of three when Ceil and Elizabeth had another child, named Sebastian. The happy family of four would run around in the garden playing games of hide-and-seek and tag, and the children would chase the dog and play with their great aunt Anne when Ceil needed to work and Elizabeth grew tired. Rachel's bright green eyes would sparkle with joy and laughter and her blue curls would bounce on her shoulders when she ran. Sebastian was just as beautiful as a child as his elder sister, but with deep blue eyes and blonde hair. From the second story window of the manor you could see twenty-seven year old Ceil holding the curtain aside to gaze down at his children with the look of a proud and happy father.

Seeing the happy and smiling faces, and the peaceful mansion made Ceil nearly crazy with a desire to be inside of the picture. In that peaceful, quiet and happy little world he could've had. He pressed himself up against the frame, as if trying to throw himself into that world, that life, that _him_. Like if he tried hard enough to push through he could be that older Ceil and have a wife and beautiful, beautiful children. _I'm grown up. I'm happily married. I have kids. Madam Red is alive. I'm not bound by any contract. I don't have to die yet!_

"Please," he begged the golden frame "please let me in! I don't want this life that I have! I want to grow old! I want to live!" he tried to pound on the picture with his fist to break his way in. But the frame didn't allow him access. Yet still he tried again and again, hitting it with his hand and begging it desperately to allow him in.

But still, it did nothing.

_"I'm very sorry Ceil,"_ the man's voice spoke for the first time in a while. He appeared before Ceil once again, and the roll stopped playing and evaporated.

Ceil was still up against the frame and stared into the untainted eyes of the older, non-existent Ceil. Said man held up his hand palm forward to the young boy. _"But you have already made the choice."_ he continued saying. _"You have already chosen your fate, and you cannot take it back."_

"No!" the wide eyed boy yelled. "It can't be too late. I-I-want to live! I don't want to be contracted any longer! Please, you have to help me. Let me live a peaceful life!" He was hysterical.

_"What has been done cannot be taken back. Your fate has already changed. You will die a young death, Ceil. I'm sorry but there is nothing that I can do."_ the older Ceil said sadly.

Ceil pressed his hand against the frame where the other Ceil held his. The boy's hand was a dwarf compared to the older man's, which caused Ceil to regret his decisions even further.

_"My time here is up. I need to leave now Ceil."_

"No, you can't leave. Please don't leave me here. Don't leave me in this kind of hell." his shoulders were tense as he tried to plead again.

_"I'm sorry, Ceil."_ he said again for the thousandth time that day. _"But I have to get back to my own life."_ Ceil kindly smiled as he said _"Maybe one day we will see each other again, somewhere in the afterlife. And then you can live the life that you desire. Goodbye."_

Adult Ceil bowed respectively, and then vanished. Along with the picture frame and the unfamiliar dirty and dark hallway.

The one and only Ceil Phantomhive found himself still embracing the wall, and took a second to realize he was back in his own mansion with the light of day pouring through the window at the turn off. He quickly stepped back into the middle of the hall, yet he didn't remove his gaze from where the frame once hung.

"Young master?"

Ceil whirled around to see his butler stare at him quizzically, head slightly tilted. "Is something the matter sir? You're a bit disheveled."

Ceil ran a hand through his hair to smooth it out as he took a deep breath to calm himself down. When he dropped his hand back at his side he took back the image of the earl of the estate. He looked his butler in the eye and said. "No, there is nothing wrong. Have you finished the chores yet?"

"Not yet, young master."

"Get to it then." Ceil turned on his heel and walked down the hall to go to his study as he had intended at the beginning of the day.

Sebastian Michaelis was left to stand in the hall watching his master disappear around the corner. He looked at the spot where Ceil had been hugging the wall then back to where his master had vanished. Then he let out a deep, throaty chuckle, and smiled that devilish grin. "Such a pitiful human."


End file.
